Filter (or lack thereof)
by Maciboh Rucka
Summary: Ryoma gets drunk in the forest during a camping trip with Seigaku, and a mysterious figment of his imagination appears through the trees to talk to him about the worst thing of all- Feelings.


Hiiiii! Okay, so this is absolutely terrible. Keep in mind that Ryoma is absolutely plastered in this, and thus is extremely OOC at times. Ryoma:-glaring- I do NOT have this many issues. Me:-pats head- I know you dont. I just like seeing you suffer a little, its a good look for you. Fuji: Saaa... I know. Yukimura: I feel like we don't do this enough. You should make him suffer more often, Maci-chan. Ryoga:I think my little bro is cute enough anyways. Me: You know, Yukimura-san, I totally agree with you. What do you say Fuji-senpai, you, and I collaborate on the next one. Make him suffer extra since this time around is a bit comical? Fugi:I think that is a wonderful idea, Maci-chan. I have a plot line already, if you two would like to look at it. Fugi, Yukimura, and I: -totter off to the corner and start laughing evily- Ryoma:-look of terror- WHY ME?! Ryoga: -shuddering- I have no idea. Kintaro: -randomly showing up and being candid- They're a sadistic trio! Saaaadists! -continues to taunt us until we silence him with a glare- Kaido: Do I have to do this? Momo: Yes. Kaido: -sighing- Read and review, or... Inui: You'll have to try my new juice!

Ryoma scowled at the fire in front of him, ignoring the sounds of his brother and his friends laughing. He stood slowly, doing his best to slip away unnoticed. He grabbed a 12 pack of Ponta and a large water bottle, stalking angrily towards the trees. He whispered out a small "I'm going for a walk." So that if he got yelled at, he could truthfully say that he told them he would be gone.

He didn't know where he was going, but he moved quickly through the forest, leaping over upraised tree roots and ducking under fallen trees that were too tall to go over. He came to a small stream as he finished running, and decided to hop along some rocks so that hhe couldn't be tracked if anybody came to look for him. It was the closest he'd come to his fantasies.

He sat in between two large boulders, stripping his shoes and socks off a his feet dangle in the water. He opened both his water bottle and a can of Ponta, drinking half of the Ponta and pouring some of the liquid from the water bottle in.

He finished that, and did it with several more cans. He was on his fifth when a blurry, indistinct figure appeared, drifting through the trees, a grayish tinge to his features.

Ryoma squinted at him. "You look like my bro- my team's new assistant coach."

The figure smiled, lips quirking up to one side. "I do, do I? Do you know who I am?"

The younger boy nodded slowly, his thoughts matching the speed. "You're the mist man. Introduced yourself last time too." He murmured.

"You think so? Tell me, what do you know about the 'mist man'?"

"Comes when you're drunk in the forest. 'S what my dad said, anyways." Ryoma frowned, his hands leaving the can between his knees as he forms air quotes with them. "'Talks to you about your woes.' Well, you can leave, Mr. Mist. I don't have any woes. Thought we went over this already."

No sound as Ryoma took another drink. The can was finished. He glared at it and set it to the side with the rest, opening another and repeating the same procedure as he had with the others, only this time pouring the Ponta into the water bottle to mix with the alcohol.

The figure spoke, startling Ryoma, who'd thought he had left. "No woes, huh? Wanna tell me why you changed what you were saying before then?"

"I corrected myself. Almost said brother." Ryoma frowned at the water. "Don't have a brother. Not anymore, 'least."

THe voice was silent for a minute or two. "Whatchya got there?"

"Vodka and grape Ponta. Courtesy of my old man's wallet and a fake I.D."

"You don't seem like the type to have a fake I.D."

"Most people don't think I am. My boyfriend knows. He got it for me. Team doesn't. Like the new assistant coach to much to notice."

"You been drinking a lot lately?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Just enough to get by. Tried smoking for a week while I was in America visiting friends." Ryoma wrinkled his nose. "Too smelly. Made me cough, bad for sports. Way too expensive. Alcohol though, if you're too broke, you can make it yourself."

He paused. " Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not alcoholic, I only drink when _he_ is around too much."

"Your brother?"

Ryoma's nose wrinkled again. "Don't call him that."

"What, your brother?"

A nod. "Not my brother any more."

"Why not?"

A shrug now. "Can't be related to someone who doesn't exist. Abandoned kids don't have parents, I don't have a brother."

"Why not?"

"He left."

"I don't think you need to be drinking any more." The hand reached for Ryoma's bottle, but he clung to it.

"I do if I'm going to be able to deal with him when I go back."

"You think nobody will notice that you're drunk off your ass?"

"Good point. I'll stay here then. Maybe get pulled away by the current. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Nice ride down the nice river."

"Your brother leaving really fucked you up, didn't it?"

"I don't wanna talk about this."

"Give me the alcohol." The figure held out his hand.

"No."

"You can talk to me, you know. I won't tell anyone. Promise."

"Not like you can, anyways. Just a figment of my imagination"

"If you don't want to talk about your brother, why not other parts of your life?"

"You're not going to give up, are you?

"Probably not. Your parents?" The man sighed, perching on one of the boulders Ryoma was sandwiched between.

"They're off limits too."

"Off limits from a figment of your imagination?"

"Thats…"

"Ridiculous?"

"Hey! You're a part of my own mind! Shouldn't you be on my side?"

"Shouldn't you be able to tell yourself the truth?"

Ryoma paused, frowning at the river and taking a small sip. "I don't think I'm drunk enough for this."

"You're imagining an entire person. I think you're fine. You're a lot more open now than normal, aren't you? Why is that?"

"It's because there's no one here to pretend for."

"What does that mean?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Easier to not have to talk when nobody thinks you need to."

"So you hide as a defense mechanism?"

"Guess you could say that."

"Tell me about your team."

"Persistent. They're nice. You're annoying, though."

"Ironic, isn't it? How does drinking affect your tennis?"

"I don't do it before matches or practice. I normally just take a couple drinks after practice, before I get home. Shouldn't you know this already?"

"You need to say somethings out loud. Address the issues, or something."

Ryoma frowns, saying nothing.

The figure spoke up again, slipping to sit beside him between the rocks. "Treat it like an angry rant. Just let all your feelings out."

Ryoma sighs, chugging almost all of the liquid remaining in the bottle. The man slings an arm about his shoulders, and the words seem to just tumble out. "I just wish he hadn't left. I know I probably shouldn't, shouldn't care, shouldn't let it affect me, but before, he never liked me. I knew it. I could tell it by the way he was always telling me to go away, to leave him alone, telling me that I was annoying. But he was my world. He was my big brother and I cared about him and I loved him and every now and then he would be nice to me and it would make me just so happy.

"But then he just left without an explanation and hardly a goodbye, and I just accepted it because I knew, I just _knew_ that he hated me and didn't want me around or to be around me, so I accepted it and I did my best to forget about him, but I never could because I'd gotten so used to him and he just wasn't there anymore." Ryoma took a deep breath and then another long swig of the drink that this random person was trying to get away from him, his eyes wet.

"And now he's back, you know, and I'm afraid because he's still so fucking nice and charming and _great_ and he can take away my friends just so easily and he's acting nice all the time and hugging me and talking to me and I know that if I start to let myself care again then he'll just leave or make my life hell and I'm just so scared and I can't take it and sometimes I just want to run away before it happens. Run away or jump off a building or cut my wrists or take pills or take a rope an-" His words cut off as he was pulled into a hug.

"No, Chibisuke," A voice whispered. "No, you can't do that."

Ryoma struggled to free himself. "Let go." His words were slurred by alcohol and muffled by the man's shirt.

The arms only tightened around him, and the lack of air sobered him up as adrenaline chased the alcohol from his system.

He came back to his mind to find a hand running softly through his hair, soft whispers of "No, Chibisuke. I'm sorry." buzzing in his ears, and something suspiciously like wet tears pooling on his head.

Ryoma froze, and this made the man holding him lean back, confirming the boy's fears. "Shit."

Ryoga looked at him, now realizing that he was sober- and closed mouthed. "We need to talk."


End file.
